Nothing in This Game Is Guaranteed

#. December 15, 2022

#-1. Athens, Georgia, USA

#-2. Athens–Ben Epps Airport

With the regular season in the books and the bowl games just around the corner, college football had entered a roughly three-week lull.

Of course, "lull" was a generous word — the teams headed to bowl games were still grinding through practice like it was midseason.

We'd been keeping our usual schedule since last Monday, and once we wrapped up our winter-term finals yesterday, we could finally throw ourselves into bowl preparation in earnest. So Coach had marked today through ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Monday as practice-free days, granting us something like a vacation.

Which is why I was standing in an airport right now.

"Wow. The interior's gorgeous."

"Most expensive model they make."

"I especially like these seats."

"Haha. We have to treat you properly, after all."

My Nike contract runs out this coming February.

Because of that, the offers had been pouring in all year. Admittedly, a football player's suitors amount to exactly three — Nike, Adidas, and Under Armour — but my agency had held its cards close until the SEC Championship wrapped, and only then set up the itinerary.

Starting today, I'll be visiting the Nike, Adidas, and Under Armour headquarters once a week over the course of about a month. Each of them will put their initial terms on the table, and after the National Championship we'll collect their final offers and sign.

The agency had set exactly one condition with all three companies: a guaranteed four-year deal, the same length as an NFL rookie contract. Every other detail — including the money — was left entirely up to them.

In a way, it was the most demanding condition possible.

Because it forced them to show just how sincere they were.

Anyway. Right now I was about to fly to Baltimore, Maryland — home of Under Armour's headquarters — alongside a man named Tibo Neelen, whom I'd met in front of the private jet the company had sent.

"So?"

"?"

"Where are your roots?"

"Ah, German. My grandfather brought the family over to Philadelphia during World War II. How did you know?"

"Your name."

"Haha. Fair enough — it's not exactly a common one, is it?"

One of my favorite ways to break the ice with a stranger is to talk about where they come from.

If I were a pure white guy, that question would've come off as discrimination. But because my own roots are stranger than anyone else's, people seem to answer honestly when I ask.

"Oh, right."

"?"

"There's something I want to show you before we take off."

"What is it?"

Tibo Neelen smiled, set a stand on the front table, and laid a tablet on it. Then he started tapping at the screen — it looked like he was placing a video call to someone. A moment later, a man appeared on the display.

Someone I knew very, very well.

Stephen Curry.

One of the NBA's biggest stars. The face of the Golden State Warriors franchise.

-Yo!

"Wow. Is that really Curry?"

-Haha. Yep. Sup?

"I'm doing great. Where are you right now?"

-Philly at the moment. Flew straight here after the Indiana game last night. We're on a two-game skid, so the mood's not great, but meeting the biggest star in college football is helping.

Nike has Jordan and LeBron.

Under Armour has Curry.

Curry had originally gotten his start with Nike — an internship, then his NBA rookie deal with them as well — but when renewal negotiations came around, he was treated so shabbily that he packed up and moved his sponsorship to Under Armour.

The Nike negotiator back then committed outright atrocities: he didn't even invite Curry to camp, and then recycled Kevin Durant's pitch deck word for word. He pretended not to notice Kevin Durant's name sitting right there on the screen, and then had the audacity to address the man in the room as "Steph Curry."

The name of that disastrous, worst-in-history Nike negotiator was Nico Harrison — who, as of last June, has been running the Dallas Mavericks as their general manager.

Word is Curry just laughed it off and listened to the whole presentation with a straight face. If it had been me, I'd have found a way to make him eat that deck.

-It did give me very solid motivation, I'll say that.

"To stick it to Nike?"

-Yep. Can't say I don't have any. I wanted to show them. Make them regret it for the rest of their lives.

"And you actually did."

-Haha. Come to Under Armour. It's a good place.

"I'm looking forward to finding out."

The video call with Curry ran about ten minutes, and the moment it ended, the plane started moving.

They timed that perfectly.

Under Armour seems to intend to start winning me over from right here.

In terms of symbolism and expanding their reach, they're clearly at a disadvantage against Nike or Adidas — you could argue they ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠built their entire headquarters on the back of Curry. So they're trying to move my heart by showing him off first.

But this is business.

In this town, money does all the talking.

As long as they avoid the mistake Nike made with Curry, of course I'll choose whoever puts the best terms on the table. The agency thinks exactly the same way.

"Want some fruit?"

"Sure, thanks."

At some point, Athens had shrunk to a patch far below us.

Baltimore was less than two hours away.

#. December 16, 2022

#-1. Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, USA

#-2. Pittsburgh Steelers Front Office

#-3. GM's Office

"Eighty-eight million dollars?"

"Yes."

"...Astonishing."

The day after Moi visited Under Armour's headquarters, the Pittsburgh Steelers' front office obtained the information the parties involved had desperately wanted to keep under wraps.

Strictly speaking, it was Nike — antennae quivering — who got the intel first, and it had then made its way to Pittsburgh.

"The important thing is that he's going to turn it down."

"Turn it down? Why on earth?"

"Because he'll be getting more money elsewhere."

Art Rooney II, visiting the front office for the first time in a long while, wore a look of genuine surprise at Omar Khan's words.

Since stepping back from day-to-day operations, Art Rooney II hadn't paid much attention to anything outside Pittsburgh — and so he'd had no idea that Moi had already signed a two-year, $40 million deal with Nike two years ago.

Now freshly updated on the matter, Art Rooney II shook his head, muttering about how much the times had changed. Omar Khan gently corrected himself.

In a very respectful voice.

"To be precise, the boy is the exception."

"Heh. He'd better be. Otherwise we'd have a league full of belly-full players before they ever set foot in the pros."

The reason Art Rooney II reacted this strongly isn't simply that he's a man in his seventies.

The truth is that football players' sponsorship income is surprisingly modest.

Even Patrick Mahomes — the money he earned in sponsorships for the entirety of 2022 was a mere(?) $31 million.

The short season, a market confined to the United States, and the difficulty of maximizing revenue through shoe sales — all of these kept sponsorship contracts below what the sport's status and scale might suggest.

But Dwayne Moi Stone had been treated as the persistent exception, and that trend showed no sign of stopping.

The Georgia quarterback, widely rated the greatest college player and star in the history of American sports, earned over $5 million from jersey sales alone in 2021.

By NFL standards, only Tom Brady has ever out-earned Dwayne Moi Stone in jersey revenue.

This year's sales were expected to climb even higher — and the numbers already proved it, since TFM had sent people across the country scrambling to buy Georgia uniforms.

Just days ago, Nike announced that the number-one-selling jersey in the NFL this year was an unmarked one, and that Dwayne Moi Stone's Georgia jersey had come in at number two.

People attributed it to Patrick Mahomes's stature taking a hit after last year's Super Bowl loss, and to Tom Brady's skills visibly eroding amid divorce scandals and the like.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

But whatever the reasons, what mattered was that a college football player who hadn't even graduated was wielding this kind of influence.

"It seems we made a good decision, then."

"Thank you."

"See it through to the end."

"I've staked everything on this, so I'll deliver results. Persuading T.J. was for the same reason."

Even with college football taking a brief breather, the media never stopped spotlighting Dwayne Moi Stone's every move, step by step.

And every one of those steps pointed to a single fact.

Georgia's quarterback was already a star.

And not just any star.

'He's a whale of one, too.'

Faced with the arrival of a graduate carrying a stature that had never existed in the NFL, the owner of Pittsburgh could feel the times shifting beneath his feet.

#. December 19, 2022

#-1. Lake Forest, Illinois, USA

#-2. Chicago Bears Front Office

With just three weeks left in the 2022/23 NFL regular season, the possible scenarios had been uploaded ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to tankformoi.com.

And a week before that, the fire had landed square on the Bears' feet.

When you factored in the remaining schedules and the results through Week 15, what was ultimately strangling Chicago was that single win they'd scraped together against the Houston Texans back in Week 3.

In other words, the only victory they'd managed all season had become the single biggest obstacle standing between them and TFM.

And however regrettable it was, unlike the other three teams — who'd be fine with any quarterback — the Chicago Bears had absolutely no way to change their bleak future unless they landed the first overall pick.

Because in the past, through a string of terrible decisions, they'd sold off every single one of their future assets — their draft capital — to other teams.

Naturally, the atmosphere in the Bears' front office had turned into a funeral.

Of course, unlike Chicago, the other teams all had games remaining against opponents capable of winning, so there was a decent chance every team but theirs would reach two wins or more.

Still, with the season this close to its end, the worry was that the others would throw everything they had into securing their own losses.

"How could we possibly have done better?"

"..."

"..."

The chairman's office of the Chicago Bears.

George McCaskey let his frustration spill out into the open.

Going 1–13 through Week 15 in a season expressly aimed at tanking was the equivalent of scoring 98 points on a test where the only thing being graded was your focus on the objective.

The problem was that, in that very same year, people capable of scoring 99 and a perfect 100 also happened to exist.

If he wanted someone to curse, it would be the league office for handing the most survivable TFM schedule to one of his rivals — but even a stray dog passing by could tell that complaint would be a laughable stretch.

"So what's the best we can do now?"

"Assuming we land the third pick?"

"Yes."

The one silver lining for George McCaskey and the Bears was that demand for the other quarterbacks was fairly robust too.

overshadowed as they were by Dwayne Moi Stone, a good number of mid-table teams had made it clear they'd accept a fair amount of bleeding if it got them C.J. Stroud or Bryce Young.

Viewed that way, the best outcome the Bears could reasonably imagine was finishing second or third and trading the pick away.

The worst, of course, was falling to fourth. If the quarterbacks came off the board one after another ahead of them, the value of their pick would collapse into scrap paper.

To be sure, teams holding picks beyond fifteenth would come salivating for Chicago's fourth slot — but at best, that would net them a 2023 first-rounder plus a handful of additional picks. That's all.

For a Bears organization that had dreamed of nine picks, it was highway robbery.

"Whew—"

Having dismissed his staff, George McCaskey stood alone at the window, looking down over the practice facility.

He thought back to the first time he'd met Ethan Lowell.

["Why didn't you bring me in from the very beginning?"]

["Is it too late now?"]

["Because Week 3 is what's going to hold you back."]

Just as the expert in tanking and rebuilding had said, maybe the Chicago Bears should have appointed Ethan Lowell as a special advisor and prepared the whole season around it from day one.

If they had, their record right now would be 0–14 instead of 1–13, and they'd have been the ones laughing last in the TFM race.

Had he been complacent?

No.

It certainly hadn't been that.

Seattle and Houston, fine — he could grant those. But even at the season opener, who could possibly have imagined that the Pittsburgh Steelers of all teams would become the most likely winner of TFM?

And yet — this was football.

Every NFL season unfolds things nobody could have imagined: the teams rated highest wither and collapse, and the ones everyone wrote off as bottom-feeders come charging up the standings.

Nothing in this business is guaranteed.

That applied to Moi too.

And yet.

'Damn it all.'

Regardless of how Dwayne Moi Stone's future turned out, George McCaskey was wracked with anguish over those nine draft picks they could have locked up beyond any doubt.

#. December 20, 2022

#-1. Portland, Oregon, USA

#-2. Adidas Headquarters

The presentation Adidas had prepared for me was less moving than Under Armour's — but it packed in far more elements that tempted me on a practical level.

Alongside launching a new brand built around me, they offered stock options worth roughly $40 million at current market value, vesting in two tranches in 2030 and 2035.

Given the trajectory of the global economy and the company's growth, they claimed the package would be worth over $70 million down the line.

The contract itself was the same four years, $88 million as Under Armour's, with differences only in the fine print — and none of those differences would be what decided my heart.

Now, it was time to leave this place.

"The Europe stuff was interesting."

"That's one of our strengths."

Over the past decade, the NFL had worked steadily to push a once-domestic market overseas.

The International Series, created in the late 2000s, kept expanding its host cities, and in the age of new media the league had done its utmost to make access easier for fans everywhere.

Even the response they'd worried most about could only be described as explosive, and more and more countries were clamoring for games of their own.

Adidas promised sweeping promotional campaigns across Europe, pointing to this year's International Series game held in Germany.

Germany being their home turf, their connections, know-how, and brand recognition there gave them an edge over Nike — or so their argument went.

As for Under Armour, they didn't seem to register at all.

Which was fair enough.

"Hooah—!"

Stepping out of the Adidas US headquarters building, I stretched both arms skyward and cracked out a long, satisfying back-arch.

It had been fun, but my body felt a little sluggish.

Well, nothing for it. Got to do what's got to be done.

"Shall we head out?"

"Sure. Timing should be about right."

"You did make the dinner reservation, right?"

"Of course."

"Nice."

Same as in Baltimore, I hated to pass up a rare chance to wander a city that wasn't Athens, on my own and free. I'd searched out well-reviewed restaurants in advance and sent the list to Wade for booking, and tonight's plan was a Haitian-style spot in the city's southeast called Kann — gluten-free and dairy-free cuisine.

The one regret was that both Baltimore and this city were hardly famous for good food — and even if the locals got angry about it, true was true.

And yet.

"It's an honor to meet you. Could I trouble you for a photo?"

"Of course."

Running into people who knew my name in an unfamiliar city, snapping pictures and signing Georgia jerseys — it was a genuinely joyful experience.

Click.